I Am a Clock
by greywitch99
Summary: Oneshot. AUish? A sort of analogy. Lelouch x C.C. I am a clock. I am a clock that does not tick. I sit on a shelf, unused. I am rusty and old. I am cracked. I am dusty. I am a clock and I do not tick. He is a fire. He makes me tick. Tick, tick, tick.


Authour's Note: So my cat woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep. I was fretting about all kinds of things like the future and school, and then I just stopped and let my mind wander, while half asleep. This idea emerged and I liked it. I felt this deep desire and need to write it so now I have written it down. It wasn't what I was going to write next but oh well. Bear with me. =P

By the way to anyone who follows me, I may not be posting as often as before because school is starting soon. Please forgive me, but I am lazy and want this to be enjoyable for me. And I simply will not have time so...

Oneshot. Not really set in universe I suppose. I guess you could call it an AU? It's a sort of analogy for C.C. and Lelouch. For the characters themselves and their relationship and their progression through the series a bit too. This is from C.C.'s perspective. And this is how I kind of see it in a way. So here it goes. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I of course do not own or have any affiliation with Code Geass. This is purely fanbased.

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I am a clock. I am a clock that does not tick. I sit on a shelf, unused. I am rusty and old. I am cracked. I am dusty. I am a clock and I do not tick.

There are other clocks all around me. They tick. I am separate, alone. I am not one of them. They tick, tick, tick. Then the clock strikes twelve and they stop. Then they vanish and disappear. They fall apart from age, they get smashed, they burn. Not me, because I am a clock that does not tick. There is no point, no use. I stopped ticking long ago after only a brief span. My hands are stuck. They do not move. My time is standing still.

What's this? What's this warmth? Tick, tick, tick. My hands are moving. Why are they moving? I am a clock that ticks? I can tick? Tick, tick, tick.

That warmth, what is it? Is it making me tick? It's fire. It's burning right in front of me. It's fire and rage and emotion. It warms me. It makes me vibrate and thrum. It burns away the cold in me. Yes, _fire_...

The fire fights the darkness all around it, desperate not to join the shadows. It fights, it blazes, it consumes. That is what fire does. It consumes those around it. Not me. I am not made of wood, I do not burn in heat. I am not made of plastic, I do not melt. I am not like the others. I am made of metal and glass. The fire cannot consume me. I can be scorched, but never burned by it. I can be warmed. So blaze beautiful fire, blaze!

That is what fire does, it burns but it also warms those around it. It's a double edged sword. But I cannot be burned, and that is what is troubling. I want to disappear like all the other clocks but I can't. I keep ticking even after I strike twelve, again and again.

Fire also flickers. It can blaze but without enough fuel it will sputter out and die. It can be doused. But I am a clock. I am steady and hard. My hands used to be unmoved, but they seem to move for the fire. And now I have a steady, tick, tick, tick.

I cannot be consumed. I cannot become fuel for it. But I am steady. Maybe if I will it I can lend it some of my steadiness. The fire, it brightens, burning more steadily. It no longer fluctuates so drastically. It is in control once more, no longer a danger to itself.

I wish I could stoke it, blow air at it, make it burn brighter. But I am a clock and I don't have lungs. Maybe if I will it...like I did my steadiness. Air rushes and the fire burns brighter. Odd. I am a clock. I shouldn't be able to blow air.

It is a fire. It really is...But this fire ticks. I can hear it. Right in front of me. Tick, tick, tick. How strange.

Its hands, I cannot see them. I cannot read the time it has left. But I can feel it. Time seems to be ticking out. Is that why I am ticking? I do not know. But why does a fire tick? Why does this beautiful, dancing, warm light not crackle and spark like it's supposed to? Tick, tick, tick.

I see. It is not a fire. No. I was wrong. A fire cannot dust off the face of a clock. That's what it does. It dusts me off so I can see. It reveals what's underneath. I am still rusty and old. I am still cracked but it sees the shining metal underneath. It sees the intricate designs, the beauty. It sees my face. It sees my ticking hands.

Did it wind me up? Did it fix me? No? Yes? This is a strange ticking not-fire. It still shines though. It's still warm. It still burns in the darkness around it. It's beautiful.

And I see it now, with my face uncovered. I see it fully. It is not a clock, despite its ticking. It is not a fire, despite its burning. Fire burns without reason. It is intelligent. It is still warm. I yearn for that warmth. Maybe that's why I tick. The warmth of those hands. Those hands that brushed the dust off me. Not it, him. He is a person.

Yes, he is a person. Tall and slim with fair, smooth skin. He has arms and legs, and warm hands and a face. He has hair. Black hair. He has eyes. Beautiful violet eyes. Those eyes are looking at me. And he has a name. Lelouch. Why is he looking at me? I am a clock. I am rusty and old. I am cracked. And I am ticking for him. But why does he not look over there at all the other clocks. Those tick for him too. Look how fast they tick. Look how lively they are. So why does he hold me right now? This clock?

He says he does look at the others too. But he also likes me. He is looking at me right now. And what's that? He says I am not a clock. What does he mean? Of course I am a clock. I always have been. If I was anything else I don't remember.

He tells me to look down at myself. He points out my hands and feet. He points out my arms and legs. He points out my skin and hair and ears and nose and face. Clocks don't have those things. I am not a clock? I tick. I started ticking after so long when I found him. Maybe I am an automaton. I am metal and gears all ticking, with flesh pulled over them. I wear the guise of life. Maybe he is too. No he isn't, he's different. I can tell. He is a person and I am an automaton.

Lelouch shakes his head. He says I am a person. No I'm not. He says I am. A person? Maybe I am a witch, not a person. That seems fitting I say. He smirks. He says I might be, but I'm still a person. I do not believe him.

He says I have a name. I am C.C.. I can hear that name. It is the name of an automaton, a witch. He nods. He says that and he whispers something else. A name. My name. A human name. I shiver. I tick faster. I warm. I believe for just a second that it is true. But I am an automaton. I am a witch and an automaton. And maybe, just maybe something more.

I realize now that he his holding my hand. I am walking behind him and being pulled along. Along a dark road. We've being going along this road for a long time. We have since I met him.

I realize I like him holding my hand. It makes me tick. It's the warmth. The fire that I see in him makes me tick. Tick, tick, tick.

I look around. I see everything. The flowers and the trees. I feel it and experience it. The wind is in my hair. It's beautiful. Why did I never see it before? I point it out to Lelouch. He is still walking, not paying the surroundings much mind. He is walking after something. I see it, something in the distance. We almost make it and then it fades. He is heartbroken. He stumbles. The fire dims. I lend him my steadiness, I stoke the fire. He picks himself up. He burns brighter once more.

I see a darkness in him, I see him driving to burn, but it's not easy. I have an idea. I am warm. He makes me warm, makes me tick. Maybe...I could lend some of the heat back. His hand's warmth flows through me. He is gripping my hand. I grip his, I squeeze it. I hope he can feel the warmth.

He stops. The sky seems to brighten just a little bit. He turns around and looks, at _me_. I tick. I tick faster. Tick, tick, tick. I tick louder. The ticks become clearer. I realize they aren't so much like ticks. It's not tick, tick, tick. It's more of a lub dub, lub dub, lub dub. It is my heart. Automatons don't have hearts. They have gears, not hearts and blood rushing through veins and lungs with air to stoke fire. I am a person. I know this now. I have thoughts and feelings. I have a personality. I am _alive_. I am human. He made me human. He made me realize. Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub. My heart beats because of him, _for him_. I am not a clock, I am _human_.

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So there you have it. My metaphor. My analogy. Thank you for hanging in there with me, I know it's lots of delving into thoughts and just a little silly analogy but I just felt this need to do it. So thank you for reading. =)

I hope you enjoyed it. I loved writing it. If you want to leave a review that would be great. Reviews make me happy. Much love. =D Until next time.


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